DeNile
by Feonixis
Summary: Harry/Ron in denial. has the consistency of cotton candy. Harry and Ron are the last to realize.
1. Absolutely Not

_Authors Note: So, this is my first work on . Yay me! Actaully i posted this a few days ago, but it's now with minor changes... so, this is slash, which, yes, does mean boy on boy sexage. so, you know the drill, if it offends you, please don't read it. This chapter is rated T for mentions of wanking and wet dreams, and an over abundance of comedicly used cursing. so, please enjoy! _

The first thing you needed to know, of course, was that Harry was not in love with Ron. Because, that would be just wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. So very, very wrong. In so very many ways.

The obvious of course being that Ron was a boy. Something Harry knew. How could he miss it when Ron insisted on changing in the same room, and taking showers in the same locker room, and running around in all that tight fitting Quidditich gear (not that Harry minded, or noticed. Except that sometimes…) Harry knew there was no chance Ron was a girl. So Harry couldn't be in love with him.

Then there was the part where Ron was his best mate. Not mate, like animals mate, because they weren't animals, never mind the many thoughts Harry "didn't" have of throwing Ron on the floor and going at it like "on the discovery channel". No, they were best friends, buds, pals, compadres, amigos… nothing more. Nothing…. Sweatier. Steamier. Or all around sexier. Best bloody friends.

Oh, and let's not forget the part where Ron was in love with Hermione. Never mind that she'd told Harry secretly that her and Krum were getting very "close", Ron was still very much in love with her…. And that was all that mattered. Because that meant he, like Harry, was straight, and obviously had never thought of them in any other terms than best mates (of the non-sexual sort). Which Harry couldn't be depressed over. Since Harry irrevocably Didn't Love Ron. At all.

Which might make one wonder at the dreams Harry had been having lately. The extremely vivid, extremely wet, extremely… not buddy like… dreams of Ron. Of which Ron was going to find out about very soon if Harry didn't figure out a way to stop them.

It wouldn't have been a major problem if they weren't so loud. But Harry had woken himself up countless times (thankfully while still at the Dursley's), with the sound of his own moaning's, and the occasional gasp of "Ron". (which didn't mean that the dream had been about his best friend. Because Harry did not feel that way about Ron.)

But now, Harry was going to be staying at the Weasley's. In Ron's bedroom. Bare inches away from the sleeping Ron. And he had no idea how he was going to keep Ron from hearing (and misinterpreting) his dreams. Because there was no way Ron would ever believe they were as innocent as they obviously were.

The very thought of going to the Weasley's (dreams excluded) and spending hours upon hours in the presence of his best mate, playing Quidditich (sweaty) going swimming (wet) seeing Ron smile at him… was enough to make Harry weak in the knees and paste a slightly silly grin on his face. A totally mate-y grin. Because that's all they were. Harry Potter and his Wheezy.

Harry spent days torn between absolute terror and blissful happiness at the mere idea of seeing Ron again. So when the night before his departure for the Weasley's arrived, Harry found he could not sleep. Toss and turn and wank… but he could not get to sleep.

"Bloody hell" he muttered, then smiled, because that was Ron's favorite swear. Then frowned because that was Ron's favorite swear. Then rolled over and try to ignore the tightening in his groin because that was Ron's favorite swear. (and one he absolutely did not on a daily basis imagine Ron moaning as Harry licked a wide trail down his sweat damp abs). "Bloody Hell there's more to the world than Ron bloody Weasley!!"

"Thanks a lot mate," came the amused whisper from the window, and Harry almost through his pillow at the sound before it really occurred to him that his window rarely if ever talked to him, and certainly not in Ron "bloody Weasley's" voice.

"Ron!!" he screeched in a very manly way, flailing away from the window and off his bed. He thumped and moaned in pain when he hit the floor, still in a very manly way, and the sound was followed closely by the familiar laugh.

"Yeah, mate, it's me. Can ya open the window, maybe?"

Harry struggled to stand, not a small feat when you couldn't see an inch in front of your face and had very little idea which way was up, and groped for his glasses on the nightstand before blinking in a very manic way at the shape outside his window. The shape that actually did appear to be a very much alive Ron Weasley, and not just the delusions of his obviously deranged mind.

"Ron?!" he choked out again, and the potential delusion in question looked a bit impatient at this.

"Yes Harry, it's me. Ron "bloody Weasley", who very much wishes you would open you're "bloody" window so he could get out of the "bloody" middle of a "bloody" muggle street on his "bloody" uncomfortable broom." his voice was muffled, but understandable, and understandably annoyed, as he did appear to seated on a "bloody" uncomfortable broom, hovering in the air outside Harry's window.

"Oh" was all Harry said, before he leaped forward, knocking against the window in clumsy haste as he threw it open and stood there. "Um, mate would you mind nudging over a bit?" and leapt out of the way as Ron pulled himself through the window and sat with a tired oomph on Harry's bed. Which, Harry decided, surely deserved a second thought (Ron, on my bed. I wonder if he's sweaty? Not that it matters.) but which he filed away for later in favor of "Um, Ron, what the bloody fuck are you doing here?"

It should here be stated of course, that Ron wasn't in love with Harry. Nor did he have inappropriate thoughts about Harry. (Except sometimes late at night, or when Harry got that lost look on his face, and Ron wanted to hold him close and "sooth" away all his worries.) Ron, in all his single-mindedness had long ago fixed himself upon a single dream. Of the day Hermione would look up from her books, smile at him, and then they would have wild passionate kinky sex. With no Harry. Because that, of course, was a weird and uncomfortable thought.

Ron would take out his Hermione dream whenever strange and unnatural urges gripped him (what does that mean, his Wheezy?) and be pleasantly consumed with mild feelings of lust and luke warm passion. He didn't really need more.

Sometimes though, when he wasn't really thinking, or wondering, or worrying, he would find himself leaning closer to Harry, studying the curve of Harry's cheek, or contemplating the hair that fell in Harry's beautiful eyes. He had even thought (though he quickly replaced the thought with one of Hermione) of brushing that hair away.

But he rarely if ever thought about it. Really, deeply thought about it. Which is why it came as such a shock when the words "Couldn't wait to see you" came from his mouth. Not because they meant something. Or even because he didn't mean them. But because they were far, far too true. He thought, then, with Harry standing over him, his face blank except for the eyebrows that had rapidly disappeared into his hair, that if he didn't immediately, right that instant, see Harry, touch Harry, kiss Harry, he would go insane.

But the moment passed. And Harry smiled. And hugged him. And moved back, a faint blush on his cheeks and an uncomfortable look, but still smiling. And they embraced again, laughing this time. "Happy fifteenth Harry."

And it should be quite obvious by now. They were absolutely, Completely. Totally. Not in love.

_Did you like it? Hate It? Gag at the mush? Review me please!_


	2. Rationilization

_Authors Note: Yay, second chapter up! The first chapter has undergone minor changes, such as Harry's age form sixteen to fifteen... silly mistake on my part. Thanks for the reviews! They made my day! Also, the changes in chapter one are not to the amount of explitives. because, though i understand that no one non-trashy tends to use that many swears, they were used in context comedicly (and yeah, i know that if comedicly is in fact a word, i have spelled it wrong... sigh). And honestly, it just doesn't sound as good without them... so please enjoy the slightly less hilarious second chapter. And please review?_

The whole problem had started just a few months ago, during the second task. Before that, Harry was quite sure he'd never given a second thought to how Ron looked on a broom, or how soft his lips were. But obviously that old muggle saying (you don't know what you've got till it's gone), had some truth in it, because it wasn't until he'd nearly lost Ron that he really realized how much Ron meant to him.

At first, right after the task, Harry had to admit he'd been a little clingy. He sat next to him in every class and at meal times, he found himself walking closer to him than was entirely necessary, and being much more physical. A hand on the arm, a slap on the back, a manly arm around Ron's shoulders. It wasn't unusual, except in the sheer quantity. (and the fact that Harry was quite sure he'd never been more sexually frustrated in his life). It was like he had to be in constant contact with his friend, and he found himself slightly nervous when he didn't know where Ron was, constantly looking up from whatever he was doing, as if to check that Ron was still safe and whole and alright.

It was the looking that got him in trouble. He began to notice things about Ron he was sure he shouldn't, things that went beyond the realm of best mate, things that tended to leave him confused and nervous and horny. Like the fact that in the morning, Ron would stretch like a large ginger cat two or three times before he even opened his eyes. (which was not the reason Harry had taken to have an early morning wank in the shower.) When he ate a sweet, he licked his lips and every one of his fingers clean. ( Which was not why Harry bought him so many. After all, what interest would he have in seeing Ron lick his lips, or his fingers, or Harry's…)When he wanked he didn't use a silencing charm. (Which wasn't why Harry stayed awake late into the night, with his curtain cracked, watching Ron's bed… Okay, even Harry would admit it seemed a little strange.)

Ron of course, drank his attention up, along with the rest of the glory of being the person the boy-who-lived would miss the most.

Hermione, however, seemed to get more and more withdrawn as time went by. Which Harry probably would have noticed if he hadn't been so intent on Ron.

It happened after transfiguration, after Harry had spent the entire class watching Ron doodle and chew on his quill, and had failed a pop quiz because of it.

He and Ron were getting ready to leave, tossing their books into book bags and rooting around for forgotten scraps of paper. "Merlin, Harry, where was your head?!" Ron, who had done about as well as he had, grinned widely at Harry as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Harry groaned as he wrestled with his own bag, finally forcing his book inside, and slinging it over his shoulder, ignoring again the way his heartbeat stopped for a second when Ron smiled at him that way.

"Obviously not on his work," Hermione spoke, traipsing down the row from where she'd been seated at the front of the class with Neville.

"You got a perfect score, of course," For once, Ron didn't seem to upset, and the smile Hermione gave him when she answered "Of course," back, showed how well they'd been getting on lately. It also had Harry hurrying them out of the classroom, toward divination (Mentally, Harry reassured himself that he was not jealous. Just in a hurry.)

At the corner, they stopped, saying goodbye to Hermione. But before they could leave, Hermione spoke up. "Actually Harry, can I have a word with you?"

Harry paused, and shot a slightly startled look at Ron, before shrugging. "Sure. Go on without me mate, I'll catch up."

He walked back toward Hermione, and for a second they watched Ron lope forward toward the corner, shouting at Neville. Then she turned toward him, a very stern, slightly worried look on her face. "Harry, I think we need to talk, and since we haven't got much time I'm going to make this quick." she looked around quickly and then pulled him closer to the wall, out of earshot of anyone who might be listening. "Look, Harry, I know Ron's your best friend. And I now how you must feel… this must be very difficult for you…" she looked at him almost tearfully as she said this, and Harry started to ask her what she meant, but she barreled on. "I mean, I wouldn't even be saying anything but it's obviously conflicting with your studies, and Harry," her face grew very serious, "people are starting to talk,"

He opened his mouth again, by now deeply confused, but she was looking around at the thinning crowd in the hall. "Oh gosh, I'm going to be late!" she suddenly threw her arms around him, sniffling and burying her face in his neck. "Whatever happens, I'll always support you, you know?" and then she was off, running through the halls, leaving a very confused Harry to be late for class.

"Girls," he shrugged, and started toward class, hoping Ron had saved him a seat.

_liked it? tell me! hated it? tell me! just a simple lol will make me all bubbly!_


	3. Departure

_3 chapters, 3 reviews... pattern... who knows... probably a slightly raised rating... but not enough to make it mature..._

With Ron sitting with him now (still on Harry's bed, still on Harry's bed!), a bottle of half empty fire whiskey between them, it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember exactly why he found the whole situation strange. _Why_ he was so determined to deny that Ron's hair was so touchable, or that his freckles were so traceable, or that his lips were so…? Oh wait, he remembered. Because having lustful thoughts for your best, straight, _male_ friend, was **not** a good thing.

But Ron was talking, so Harry tried to focus on what he was saying, and not just the way his lips were forming the words.

"I've got it all figured out mate," Ron, slumped with his back to the window he had come through, the bottle of fire whiskey now clutched in his flourishing fist, smiled goofily at Harry over the wrinkled expanse of his scrunched up chest.

"Uh huh," said Harry, smiling too, as he grabbed the bottle from Ron's hand, and deciding the other boy had had too much, took a swig of his own. The motion almost sent him toppling over the edge of the bed, and Ron caught him, laughing and shushing him, and stealing the bottle. Harry pouted, but it wasn't because Ron had moved his hand from it's place on his arm.

"You see." Ron seemed dead set on explaining his epiphany, he had sat up more, leaning closer and looking Harry dead in the eye, in a very serious manner that was slightly ruined by the fact he couldn't seem to focus on him and kept blinking. "We're going to be aurors." Since this was indeed the plan they had agreed on, Harry only nodded, and leaned closer to Ron. Their knees were touching in a very distracting way. Ron seemed to notice this, because he looked down and frowned before continuing. "I'm going to marry Hermione." Since Harry really didn't want to be the one to break it to him about Hermione and Krum, all he did was nod and lean in closer, now distracted by the way their elbows, both resting on their respective knees, were so close. "And you're going to marry Ginny!" Harry was almost so distracted by the way Ron's face was so close to his, that he didn't register this part. He was, indeed, halfway through the lean stage before he registered, and rearing back with a startled, "Huh?" almost knocked Ron off the bed.

Ron didn't seem to mind, indeed this part of his master plan seemed to have him particularly excited, judging by the way his eyes lit and he leaned even farther forward. "Yeah! You're going to marry Ginny, and then we'd be just like… like… brothers!" he exclaimed the last bit, arms thrown wide, precariously close to Harry's face.

Harry just sat looking at him, a faint frown on his face. "Why would I do that?"

Ron looked suddenly hurt. "You mean you don't want to be my brother?" He withdrew, clumsily scooting toward the other end of the bed, and Harry felt suddenly very bereft.

"Of course I do!" Harry tried to clasp Ron's hands, but missed, falling a little bit forward so Ron had to catch him., one fire whiskey laden arm wrapping around Harry's middle. And spreading fire through Harry that had nothing to do with the drink. They were hugging, but Harry ignored it, his hoarse and muffled words sounding from Ron's sweater. "You're my best mate!"

Ron seemed to be sniffling now. "Good. Then you'll marry Ginny?"

Harry sighed. It was really hard to focus on Ginny when Ron was … wait, what _was_ Ron doing with his hand? Whatever it was, it was making little Harry very happy, and pressed this close to Ron, that was not a good thing. Harry started to shift back as he spoke, but Ron seemed to have too many arms, and all of them were pressing Harry and his problem into Ron. "Ron… I don't think…" pushed one arm off, another appeared. "That I feel that way about…" was that a leg? "Ginny!"

Harry was still trying to disentangle himself from Ron when Ron let him go, and he fell backwards, hitting his head on the headboard. "Sorry mate!" Ron grinned. Then he frowned. "Why wouldn't you like Ginny?" this obviously hadn't occurred to him, because he sat for a minute, chin in hand thinking, while Harry was valiantly trying to sit up from his position, legs tucked under him, and back flat to the bed, while not revealing the…, the…, okay, his hard on.

"I mean…" Harry finally managed to free one leg. Ron didn't seem to notice his predicament. "She's just like me, I suppose. Only with… with… TITS!" Ron suddenly shot up, smiling happily, just as Harry freed his other leg, which shot out and on its way down, hit Ron in the back of the head. His balance already precarious, Ron fell face forward, into Harry's lap, with Harry's leg wrapped behind his head.

Ron quite suddenly found his face buried in Harry's **Crotch**. With his lips practically wrapped around Harry's **Penis**. He wondered if Harry had been hard _before_ Ron went face first into his lap. Either way, he didn't particularly blame Harry. After all they were teenage boys. They got random hard on's at the damndest times. Right now for instance, Ron couldn't explain his. Probably something to do with the way the blankets were rubbing him, and nothing to do with the boy practically writhing under him.

Which begs the question, why was Harry writhing? Not because his friends face was in his lap. In fact, at exactly the moment Ron took his tumble, the clock on Harry's bedside had hit 12:00. At that exact moment, two people, dressed in black and carrying broomsticks, had slammed open the door to Harry's room, and been met with a sight that left one snickering, and the other wishing his wandering eye would redirect itself to another part of the room.

Ron, seeing this, felt the need to explain. "We're not gay,". However, the words came out a bit more like "Mmmph, Mmmph, Mmmph." Which caused Harry to writhe some more, and scream, "Get your head out of my crotch!" Which caused the pink haired girl to go into convulsions, and Mad-eye Moody to turn around, and do something he hadn't been seen to do in years. Blush.

Unfortunately for him, he can see through the back of his head.

Ron of course, tried to answer Harry's plea. "Mmmph, Mmmph, Mmmph," which translated, of course, to "Get your bloody leg out of my way and I could!"

Harry, arching of the bed, screamed in reply, "Stop talking!" to which the pink haired girl replied, "Kinky," before collapsing to the floor with laughter.

A half hour later, the boys stood, dripping wet and hard-on free, and not looking at each other, in the kitchen of the privet drive house. Remus Lupin had arrived a few minutes into the struggle, and with a roll of his eyes at the two figures in the doorway, had drenched the two on the bed, causing them to roll off said bed with matching howls (thought Ron's was still muffled in Harry.) and eventually right themselves. They hadn't looked at each other since.

To make matters worse, Tonks, ( the pink haired animorphugus pervert), had tripped on Ron's broom standing up after her laughing fit, and had then presented him with the splintered remains. So, as Lupin said, Ron would have to share a broom with Harry.

"You are the two lightest, " said Lupin.

"Shouldn't be much of a hassle," snickered Tonks.

"It's your won bloody fault for sneaking here in the middle of the night to get up to… whatever you were getting up to!" blushed Mad-Eye.

"We're not gay!" shouted Harry and Ron.

Their non-homosexuality aside, they found themselves seated on Harry's firebolt without much hassle a few minutes later.

"After all, you always want to ride my firebolt anyway…" said Harry, then blushed. Even Lupin snickered this time.

"Okay, people, this ride will be long and hard…" (at this point many people had to remount their brooms, as they had fallen off in fits of laughter…) "and will likely last all night long…" Someone, probably Tonks, snickered "That's what he said," "So try not to fall asleep!"

"Have that problem often Moody?" as the person who said this couldn't not be identified, Mad-Eye was forced to ignore it.

"Constant Vigilance!" He yelled instead, and they rose into the air.

The pr0nage may never come... (heehee pun) if you don't review!


	4. Arrival

The ride from number 12 Privet drive to number 4 Grimmauld place was the longest of Ron Weasley's life.

The buzz had worn off, leaving him feeling sick and achy and nervous, and still, somehow, despite the rolling in his stomach, and the surety of his death at the hands of his mum, painfully hard.

As soon as he'd felt it, the rest of his body had stiffened, as had Harry's, and he'd gone red to the roots of his hair, quickly trying to scoot back. In doing so, he'd nearly knocked the broom out of the air, and in the mad scramble to right it, had ended up pressed even closer to Harry, his chin on his best mates shoulder, and his groin pressed hard against Harry's bum.

The others who had seen the near fall from the sky were chortling amongst themselves, and Ron narrowed his eyes, fully prepared to whip out his wand and do them all in if even one of them made a crack about Harry's crack.

"Sorry," Ron barely heard Harry mumble over the wind, and he turned his head, surprised, and found his lips pressed to Harry's temple.

Once the broom had once again been righted from that near fatal incident, and Ron was somehow, impossibly, pressed closer to Harry than before, he managed to grind out a "Why?" without ever turning his head.

"I know… not your fault… vibration… happens all the time…" Though most of the words were lost in the rush of air past them, Ron caught the gist of it, and found his wide eyes focused on Harry's lap. Oh.

"All the time. Right," and assured in the knowledge that Harry didn't think he was a freak and was almost as uncomfortable as he was, he managed to kind of enjoy the last few minutes of the star lit ride to his untimely demise.

"Firewhiskey! Really, What were you thinking Ronald Weasley! …Worried sick about you… Brothers out all night looking… And Harry… and,… and…" Mrs. Weasley seemed a little loath to comment on the state Nymphadora Tonks had laughingly reported them to be in when she and Moody had arrived. Which was fine, since the boys probably wouldn't have heard her anyway. They were far to busy not-thinking (an art form unto itself) about the many strange occurrences of the night.

Blushing and flushing furiously, Molly Weasley reluctantly realized she had no way of getting through to the two thick-headed boys darting supposed-to-be-hidden glances at each other. With what sounded threateningly like "We'll discuss your punishment tomorrow!" she sent the two upstairs, to their room, that they would be sharing. Together. At night.

Though they dared not drag their feet in Mrs. Weasley's presence, they had barely made it past the top of the stairs when all forward motion came to a complete standstill. They almost immediately made a run for it when they spotted not only Hermione, and Remus, and Sirius, and Tonks, but Fred and George. Oh, how they wished they'd run and locked the door.

Instead, they were too busy focusing on the plausibility of denying the occurrences of the night, to notice the fiendish leers of those bearing down upon them, until it was ultimately too late.

"Harry! Ron!" Hermione cried, throwing herself, first at Harry, then, surprisingly into a hug with Ron, who, it must be said, she had not ,up to this point, felt comfortable hugging. Ron (vaguely remembering his Hermione-dreams), felt this should have heralded a momentous occasion, but other than Harry's similarly raised and simultaneously knitted eyebrow, saw no other responses to this strange and abnormal(-ly uninspiring if in, fact, in reference to his finally receding nether regions) behavior. "It's so good to see you! We have so much to chat about! I can't wait to show you my new shoes!" as if this comment wasn't strange enough ("What the hell do we care about your shoes for?"), she continued, "I'm so happy for you both! And I just want you to know, I'm always here for you!" she was, once again, wiping tears off her cheeks, and threw herself into a hug with both of them again. "It's all just so wonderful!" she mumbled as she wandered back to her room.

Left gaping mouthed, the boys still did not have a chance to run for it, before Remus and Sirius were bearing down on them.

"Harry!" Sirius roared, swooping his befuddled godson into a tight hug, then surprisingly, grabbing Ron, too. Ron of course, was mildly stunned, but even more so, when he saw Sirius Black, of all people, wiping stray tears from his eyes. "Practically part of the family now, so happy to see Harry with such a nice lad, wonderful, really, ever need any advice, we're here, what have you been up to all summer… hahaha, I know what you've been up to all summer. James would have been proud, sneaking off for a midnight tryst…" as he blathered on, finally releasing the boys but his outpouring of excited words uninterrupted, Remus himself leaned in for a quick hug with both boys, too, whispering just loud enough for Harry to hear "I've got a few books you two could borrow." before moving back enough to… Harry had to pause and blink… no it wasn't his imagination…wrap an arm around the overexcited Sirius' waist, ands strike up… Ron was definitely imagining this… a safe-sex lecture. Thankfully, before he could get too far "…lotion, but not soap, or saliva…" Sirius had cut him off, a dark look in his eyes, and all but dragged him off, mumbling under his breath about the effect Remus' lecturing had on him.

The boys barely had time to process the damage done to their heretofore unblemished and delicate minds, before the combined team of Fred, George, and surprisingly, Tonks, was upon them.

Before they could trick, maim or worse, embrace, either boy, Harry and Ron had let out very manly shrieks of terror, and darted down the hallway. Left coughing in their dust, George yelled after them, "Just wanted to give you this!", brandishing a shiny new tube of lube.


	5. Double entendre?

AN: so sorry i haven't posted! my monitor broke and i had to send it away to get fixed! Thanks for the reviews! It makes me so happy when people tell me they enjoyed it! sorry if this chapter is a little abrupt, i was in a hurry to get it up. heehee. I love puns.

For a few seconds after the door slammed shut and Ron threw the lock, they stood, panting, a hand each balancing them on the door as they knelt over shaking knees, trying to gain their breaths, their eyes locked somewhere on the far side of the room. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Harry glanced at Ron, Ron glanced at Harry, and they both burst out laughing.

"God… Harry… That was so… funny…"Ron managed between laughs, his other hand now supporting him on Harry's shoulder.

"I… know… heeheehee…your face…" Harry gasped out, covering his mouth and half burying his face in the nook between his best mates shoulder and Ron's large mop of auburn hair.

"My face?… heeheehee… your face!" They fell about laughing, sliding down the door until they were seated, scrunched over their knees, with their backs to it, trying to breath past their giggles. When they had finally calmed down enough to speak, Ron looked up at Harry from where he was leaned half across the other darker boys lap, and he smiled, his blue eyes warm with mirth.

"Harry, mate, in all seriousness, I'm sorry about earlier." Harry fought back the urge to brush back the fringe of hair that had fallen into Ron's eyes.

Despite the sudden tightening of his throat, and other key parts of his anatomy, Harry spoke calmly, his voice warm and collected. "No problem,"

He almost fainted when Ron looked down bashfully, more ginger hair falling in his eyes, a bit red around the ears, and stood, slapping him on the knee as he did so. The redhead turned to offer a hand up to him, and Harry smiled as he let Ron take his own slight, cold hand in the large, warm one. And the brunette didn't go the least bit dizzy.

He must have zoned out a bit, though because he was halfway to standing when what Ron was saying clicked in his head, "Bed then, mate?" and with a sudden screech, he slipped, went tumbling backwards, and Ron, still attached by that lovely freckled hand, came with him.

Harry James Potter, for the second time in one night, found himself pinned under the not-insubstantial weight of Ronald Bilius Weasley. He wished, later, he had been able to say something suave, like, "What's that you said mate? Something about bed? Sorry about the falling and screaming, a bit tired you know." But he didn't. And not just because Harry didn't have a suave bone in his body. He was also unconscious.

Probably because of the thick, stiff, piece of wood that hit him. It was, in fact, a door, and it hit him in the head, quite hard.

Ron, finding himself pinning said unconscious boy, immediately jumped to his feet and began apologizing, and trying to help Harry up. Having not realized Harry was, in fact, unconscious.

He immediately tried to haul Harry to his feet, dropping him a second later so that his head thwacked against the door sharply. "Er, Harry?"

Harry of course, didn't answer, so Ron, throwing his hands into his hair and pulling hard, screamed. "Oh, bloody hell, I've killed Harry Potter!"

He had not, of course, killed Harry. But that didn't stop the other occupants of the house from causing a bit of a fuss when they saw the tear streaked face of a sobbing Ronald Weasley as he carried his best mate bridal style down the stairs.

"Oh, bloody hell, you've killed Harry!" Shrieked Mrs. Weasley, but no one noticed the woman's sudden cursing as they were all muttering their own frantic expletives. Sirius Black, dragging the doggy collar attached to his neck, and the Remus Lupin attached to the chain, threw himself out of his room, down the stairs, all the while dragging poor Remus, and onto his godson, sobbing "He was so young… Don't be dead Harry… Stupid Potters!" it would have been touching, if a second later, Remus had not by force of the collar, been dragged bodily into him, knocking the whole mess into a giant doggy pile, in which Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter were at the very bottom.

Harry, finally jarred awake, moaned and tried to squirm away from the source of the giant pain in his back. Finding this impossible, he blinked his sensitive eyes open and stared in mounting horror down at Ron Weasley. "Er, hi?" he said.

Ron, finding his best mate come back to life, started shrieking. "Harry's alive! Oh Merlin, your alive!" And then, quite suddenly, he found himself snogging Harry.

Later that same day, Ron would claim emphatically to anyone who would listen… whether or not they had even heard of the incident…. That Remus, being helped to stand by Mr. Weasley, had suddenly jerked back when Sirius had grabbed his ass, and caused Harry's lips to collide with his own. There had probably been some kind of jinx fired just then, most likely by Fred and George (despite their claim that they weren't even there), that had held his and Harry's lips captive. When Sirius was freed, the frantic eating of face and grinding of unmentionable body parts, had simply been Harry and Ron struggling valiantly to free themselves from the spell. The water then shot from a dozen or so collected wands had been enough to "unstick" them. If they had immediately run off to separate bathrooms, it was simply because they wanted to change their clothes. Being sopping wet and all. It was all quite innocent. Really.

After finishing 'changing', the two, still in their sopping wet clothes, apparently having just realized they had no clothes in the bathrooms, rushed as one to their bedroom, eyes frantically darting over their shoulder every step of the way, lest they be attacked and questioned by other guests of the Black household. They were so busy watching their backs, they forgot to watch their fronts, and thus, right outside their door, barreled head long into one another. Ron, being significantly bigger than Harry, ended up, once again "Merlin, this is getting old," pinning the other.

They righted themselves at once, slipping a little bit in their wet clothes, and blushing to the roots of their respective hair. Harry was the first to speak.

"Er…" followed quickly by Ron.

"Er…" followed less quickly by Harry.

"Er…" and followed even quicker than before by Ron.

"I'm going to ask out Hermione."

"Er?" Harry asked eloquently.

"Um, yeah, I just thought you should know. Because then you couldn't. In case you had wanted to. That is, ask her out." Ron wasn't nearly as eloquent as Harry.

"Oh. No I don't." Harry said. "Want to, that is." Harry mumbled. "Ask her out," Harry whispered, and if there was any sort of stress on the female pronoun his voice was too low for Ron to really hear it.

"Oh. That's. Um. Well. Nice. I guess. Because I do. Want to. Ask her out. On a date. That is. Er. Yeah." For a second they stood there, Harry's green eyed gaze locked on the floor, and Ron's blue one locked on the end of the hallway right over Harry's head, and both of them with weird looks in their eyes, and blushes on their faces, and then Harry blinked, smiled, and slapped Ron's arm.

"Well, finally mate. Good for you! Finally asking Hermione out. Wonderful that is. Are you ready to go in then?"

At this Ron could only look aghast, his face flaming even more. "Not right away!"

Harry frowned, confused. "Er, okay, but do you mind if I do?"

"Absolutely not! What kind of…" Ron saw for the first time that Harry seemed to be gesturing toward the door that Ron was blocking. The door to their bedroom. Ron's face grew, if possible, redder. Oh. "Um, never mind. Yeah, let's go in. I'm knackered."

Hey! Review! Please! Please?


	6. Voyeur

AN: Thank you all so much for your patience, your wonderful reviews, and for reading at all. Finally, i bring you the last chapter. Er, that is, i might have an epilogue. Depends on how my reviewers feel about mpreg. Cause honestly, i thought mpreg was stupid at first... but then i kinda grew to love it. Tell me what you think. And er, i'm thinking of deleting the 2nd chapter. Cause i hated it. And helps none at all with story progression. So... and er, i forgot. I don't own Hary potter. We can all see what would happen if i did...

Okay! The smut chapter! okay, so, kinda smut! but it's the first "smut" i've ever written for anyone but myself.

Oh, and ' 's are thought. Excpet at the end, when they're dialog heard durng eavesdropping.

Please enjoy the visuals!

Despite his protests that he wasn't tired, as soon as his head hit the pillow, Harry was asleep. Within a minutes he had wrapped the blankets on his bed tight around him, between his legs and around his back, and clutching them under his chin. His breath evened out into little mewls of comfort, his dark hair falling onto his sleep warmed face and slightly puckered brow.

From across the room in his own bed, Ron watched him with a frown, trying his best to ignore the absolute cuteness that was Harry and focus on the need for sleep that was making his body ache. It wasn't working.

Harry let out another soft little sigh, and Ron buried his head into the pillow with a groan.

Harry rolled onto his stomach, his round little butt sticking straight up in the air, his shirt and covers falling down his slightly arched back, his knees drawn straight under him and shorts stretched tight and exposing the tiniest sliver of crack… Ron found himself beating his head rhythmically into his pillow.

Harry's knees, slowly, inch by inch, spread outward, and Ron watched mouth open and with the tiniest bit of sweat forming on his forehead, as Harry's breath, made uneven by his unnatural position switched to something a little heavier.

Harry finally fell down completely, but then rolled straight over onto his back, legs splayed, dark hair spread across the pillow, breath still heavy and shirt still hiked up, his hand resting tantalizingly close to the top of his shorts. 'Oh fuck,' Ron thought gulping, as he noticed for the first time that Harry seemed to be having a very nice dream. A very, very nice dream judging by the size of the swell.

Harry's dark head tossed to one side, a light groan escaping from the cherry lips, and the moonlight leaking though the window highlighting every little drop of sweat. "Nngg,". Ron thought the room felt suddenly hotter, and he could feel his face flushing with color.

"Aah," Harry moaned, his hips squirming a bit on his rumpled covers, and his hand seeking the source of the heat. Ron's breathing was coming shorter now. Harry was… Harry was… And Ron was watching him! But he couldn't tear his eyes away as the dark haired boy bucked a bit under his own touch. "Oh Merlin," Ron whispered, and Harry seemed to moan in response, that seeking hand pressing heel first into the straining erection.

Little keening noises escaped from the raven headed boys mouth as he tossed his head, his back arching and legs trembling over imaginary touches, and Ron realized his hips were shifting of their own accord, rubbing him against the mattress. He was so fucking hard, it was all he could do not to touch himself. But he couldn't. Not from watching Harry have a wet dream. It was too _Wrong_. He was such a pervert. What was wrong with him, enjoying the way Harry whined and bucked and shivered… his lips feeling lonely, and hot. He wanted to… he couldn't…

The wandering hand had crept under Harry's dark shorts, Harry was touching himself, the outline of his fingers moving under the waist band, the way he was moving, and moaning… Ron felt the blood rushing to his head, dizzying, his hips pumping faster, just from the site of Harry…

"Aah, aah, nggh, yes…"

"Oh, fuck," Ron moaned, his head tossing as his own arousal threatened to overwhelm him… It was Harry, Harry doing this to him. He was so close, the liquid heat pooling into his tightened gut.

"Yes," Harry whimpered, "aah, please, hah, please, RON!!" The raven head was thrown back, the corded neck straining and sweat slick as the lithe body, exposed below the scrunched shirt, arched off the bed, Harry's hips pumping up into the tanned hand as the smaller boy screamed.

Ron's eyes widened, he stiffened, and then he was coming, his blue eyes rolling back in his head, his mouth open and moaning and his hips jerking down spasmodically of their own accord.

As soon as he could, he opened his eyes, looking through the darkness for Harry…, Harry who was laying stone still, his eyes wide and green and dazed in the darkness, looking at Ron. He'd seen. Worse. "Oh fuck," Ron said. Worse, he knew.

"Ron?" Harry's voice was small, fearful even in the darkness.

"Oh fuck," Ron yelled again, scrambling to throw the covers off his back and get out of bed, he managed to roll himself to the floor, and jump to his feet. Across the room, Harry had scrambled out of bed too, but had fallen flat on his face when his foot was caught in the blanket. Ron scooped up his pants and ran for the door, Harry surged to his feet and grabbed for Ron, and with a giant thud they hit the floor again. Ron made to crawl toward the door, but Harry grabbed his ankle and dragged him back down.

"Ron!"

From the room next door someone yelled, "Keep it down! Some of us are trying to get some mmmph, mmmph, mmmph!"

Ron, startled, ceased trying to crawl away, and Harry took this as a chance to subdue him. The smaller boy climbed up Ron's body, straddling him and pinning him to the floor.

"Ron," he said into his best mates ear, a trifle out of breath from the exertion. "We need to talk." Ron gulped.

"O… okay…" Harry sighed in relief, ruffling the hair on Ron's neck and making him shiver. Ron was suddenly very aware of how Harry was pressed into him, and the squishing of his pants.

"Good to see your cooperating. First. Are you gay?" Immediately Ron's struggling resumed, forcing Harry to pin his arms above his head.

"Wah!? No! I mean… Harry! I mean… wah! Why are you sitting on me!?" Ron's already red face flamed.

"Hmm, good question." Harry said, shifting slightly to sit more comfortably. "But since I'm the one pinning you down, I get to ask questions. Ron Weasley, did you get off from watching me have a wet dream?"

"Wha… What kind of question is that?" Ron asked, starting to get a little angry, his face bright red. Harry ignored Ron's struggling, and bent closer.

"I'm still on top, so I get to ask the questions, and I've only got one more." Ron was seething, every intention of using years of wrestling experience to pin the younger boy down and make him talk. "What would you do if I did this?" and then Harry licked him.

Harry _licked_ Ron Weasley, just a gentle swipe of his slightly rough tongue, wet and hot, across Ron's neck. Harry thought Ron tasted good, salty, and a bit like soap, but definitely Ron. Ron thought he might have died and gone to heaven.

"Ha… toa… wah?" Ron mumbled incoherently, while Harry waited patiently. "Harry? Tongue? _Harry_?" Slightly more coherent. "Did… you… just… Lick … me… why?"

At this point, Harry apparently lost whatever nerve had been driving him in his quest for answers. His face flamed. His hands shook. And he scrambled from Ron's back. "Er, no… no reason… hahaha… just… er… messing…" but he wasn't fast enough. Because before he could fully stand, Ron had rolled over, reversed their positions, and pinned Harry to the ground.

"Er?" said Harry.

"Payback," said Ron. And then he licked him. On the mouth.

"Was that a kiss?" Harry asked, his face flushed and breathing heavy.

"Er… yeah?" Ron looked similarly flustered, and smiling just a bit.

"Good," Harry smiled back, pulling his best mate turned probable boyfriend down into a thorough snog.

From the doorway, six pairs of eyes watched and giggled as the boys struggled through.

'Not there! That hurts Ron!'

'Ack, teeth, Harry teeth!'

'My eye? Seriously, my eye!?'

'Didn't Remus say something about spit?'

"Yes, I said not to use it!"

"Aah, Moony, you just had to give our position away!"

"Everybody, run for it!"

well, what do you think? I think i'm going to post it on livejournal. if i can ever figure out how...


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